Electric
by inkedrain
Summary: A junior reporter looking to make his career happens on a girl who punches her way to survival. She is the perfect opportunity to begin his legacy, but how will he be able to do that if he can't even get close enough to her to say hello? "You could have killed me," he says. "I know," she replies. "But I didn't."
1. Ephemeral

Rain taps lightly on the roof of the car as it barrels through traffic. There is nothing clean about driving in the rain, especially with the effect it has on other drivers. They seem to lose awareness of their surroundings, and it adds more chaos to the activity. At this rate, it's likely he'll be late, and he wonders if he can come up with an excuse good enough to keep his bosses from scolding him once again for his tardiness.

His mild anxiety amps up into something more alarming as he calculates how much longer it's going to take. It does not help that he has almost no clue where he is meant to be once he arrives, uncertain of the exact duties he is meant to perform. There were no specific details when he was given this assignment; just show up, observe, and leave. He is left to rely on his own resources and judgement, but he is not sure how far they will take him.

Darkness is settling over the day, making the scene seem a bit more weary. Most people would want to be certain of where they are going in a situation like this, but he doesn't have the time to mull over his chances of survival. If all went as planned, no one would even know he was there.

The car stops smoothly, and the downpour increases. They have pulled in front of a large, stone building. There is nothing unique about it, just a single door for patrons to pass through as an entrance. He swallows past the lump in his throat, ears perking at the sound of distant cries. The door swings open as stragglers enter, some running, some increasing their pace to a half-walk, half-run to escape the rain. The cries return, louder, and accompanied by shouts of praise and excitement. There are tickets in their hands.

"Are you sure this is where you want to be let out?" the driver asks, and Lavi returns his attention to the car. Each time there is a loud burst of yelling or screaming from the building, his driver flinches.

"God, isn't there something that can be done to make that stop?" The driver says this more to himself than anyone, but Lavi says nothing. The redhead runs his hands through his hair as he thinks it over, calculating. Even if he wasn't sure, there is nowhere else but here that he can think of to be let out.

The sound of a crippling scream breaks both of their trains of thought and they turn their attention to the building once more. After a few more seconds of still silence, the redhead can make out more shouts mixed with louder chanting and clapping. He was warned there would much of that, and more, and he shifts his gaze to his shoes, hoping they are thick enough.

"Yes, this is fine. Thanks." He tips his own hat at the driver before he steps out, hurrying inside before he gets caught in the oncoming storm.

The building is ordinary; nothing about it sticks out. It is still hidden between a lower, less populated sector, but if it were placed in a more popular area, there is a large chance it would not be noticed. Lavi turns his assignment in his mind over and over again, considering his options. His stomach is still turning, but he ignores it as he pushes through the entrance, moving quickly down a dimly lit hallway. His shoes make no noise as he rushes down the hallway, an observation he quickly jots down before increasing his pace to a run. He doesn't know what he's supposed to expect, but he hopes he hasn't missed too much. There is nothing here to tell him where exactly he is supposed to go, and so he follows the chanting and the voices until they are so loud they are practically bursting out of the large set of double doors he is now in front of.

This must be it.

The door is guarded by the regular large men ready to throw down with anyone who causes problems. To the left of them is a sign that reads, "We welcome paying spectators."

Lavi grabs his ticket from the recesses of his pockets and waits for security to inspect it. They glance briefly at it, their eyes zeroing on him instead. Their gazes move up and down his body, expressions blank and steady, stopping when they spot the folder in his hand. Sweat begins to collect at his brow when he realizes their concern, and he racks his brain for an excuse.

"I'm in charge of death certificates," he blurts suddenly, just as soon as he hears a thud. The noise shakes the ground beneath them and security takes their attention off him just long enough to stick their heads through the doors. Lavi seizes the chance to slip past them, earning shouts of disapproval from both guards, but he is long gone.

The crowd absorbs him with their incessant chanting and chattering. Their words are less clear than when he was listening in the car, and he realizes it's because their excitement has increased to an incomprehensible state. There is nothing keeping them from erupting into their own uncontrolled frenzy. His hands clutch his documents tightly as he moves past each spectator, some who could be grandparents, and others younger than him. His surprise doesn't cross his gaze, however; instead he forges on, storing each thing he sees in his mind so he can write it down later. There are no seats for him to bump into, and no ropes to secure him from moving to the front rows— or rather, the front of the overwhelming amount of people—so he moves until he can get close enough to see something.

At the center of the crowd is a slab of concrete raised just a few feet above the rest of them, secured with a couple of thin pieces of wire to keep others from entering. The concrete is dark and slick with blood, and as Lavi's eye absorbs the picture before him, he isn't left wondering for long.

Two bodies charge each other furiously, taking each other by every limb, strand of hair, and piece of clothing they possess and using it as a weapon. Blood cakes their skin and even as their eyes swell and their lips burst, they are both alive with an energy so intense that it's impossible to look away. It takes him a moment to realize that they are both women, and he feels a trickle of unease climb up his spine as one launches a heavy punch into the other square in the face. Blood erupts from their mouth, knocking a tooth into the crowd. Some scramble for the small bit of ivory, while others use the chance to move closer, practically sharing the ring with the two main contenders.

Then, something peculiar happens. The woman who just got hit eats the blow without flinching, and then she smiles. The corners of her mouth turn upward, and she bares her teeth to everyone willing to look. Her head rears forward, her entire body turning just quick enough to gain momentum. She digs her heel into her opponent's stomach and sends her flying. She is lightning, slamming her other foot into their ribs, and they are sent sprawling through the wires holding the ring together. The crowd erupts in a fit of roars and cheer, and the chanting returns. There is no question what they are saying now.

Len-a-lee, Len-a-lee, Len-a-lee!

A/N: hey guys! so this is something i've been working on for a couple months. It's called electric, and it's a dgm au featuring the main four and a couple other characters. i know the premise kind of sucks, but i'm super excited about this story. reviews are always appreciated as well as favs and follows, but really, i just want to write. i hope you enjoy whatever i have to offer (:


	2. Enamored

Lenalee is rushed out of the room before anyone has a chance to say anything to her. He watches as men protect her from the onlookers with a various amount of reactions. Some praise her, calling her a goddess and a queen, and others condemn her, spitting at her and expressing their disapproval. She says nothing to either person, but keeps her chin up high, her shoulders square, and her expression blank. Lavi is completely taken by this, intrigued solely because of her strength. Her frame is small and thin, her hair cut short, a mix of blood and sweat adding an extra tone to her olive skin. At first glance she catches anyone of guard, which is why her performance has left him in such a daze.

The chaos follows her out of the arena, and soon the crowd begins to settle. When she's gone, there is a calm that passes over them. They seem sated, like they've been given a dose of something to relax their nerves. Some have even begun to sit down, talking amongst each other, thoroughly pleased. They ignore the blood running down the sides of the rings and the smell of flesh circling the tight space they're occupying. It's almost as if it contributes to the twisted atmosphere of this place.

Lavi's limbs press to his side, awkwardly trying to avoid touching anything or anyone he doesn't have to. He's already felt the crude limbs of the crowd as he was pushed into it earlier, and suddenly he is aware of that even as he stands a few inches taller than most of the people around them. He sticks out.

He feels something itching in the back of his mind when he recollects what he just saw; how animated and truly alive Lenalee was in the ring. He wants to be nearer to her, to have the chance to speak to her. He knows it's what he has to do if he wants to complete this assignment as thoroughly as possible. The anticipation courses through his veins like a current, and he wonders how and when he'd ever have the chance to be close enough to even get a hello in. He knows one thing for sure: watching her was simply not enough.

Something snatches the side of his head, and suddenly he is being yanked by his ear, his head throbbing as he's pulled away from the crowd. The man pulling him does so with such force that he can barely make out his surroundings, just pays attention to the throbbing in the side of his head. When they are out in open space, the man lets go, and Lavi glares at him as he massages his tender skin.

"Idiot," the man says. His long, bright red hair tumbles out of a large hat, spilling over his oversized trench coat. He turns on his heel in a dismissive manner, and Lavi is quick to follow him. He begins running to match the large stride of Cross Marian, one of his most important superiors. The man frequently expresses his disappointment through physical means, much to the chagrin of Lavi.

A trail of smoke begins to follow the older man, and Lavi switches to the opposite side so he doesn't catch the brunt of it.

"What did you tell them?" he demands, his voice muffled by the cigarette hanging out of his mouth. He is referring to the guards who almost kept Lavi from entering the fight.

"I told them I issued death certificates." The taller man barks out a laugh, and Lavi is grateful for his wit. It gets him out of trouble just as much as it gets him in trouble.

"No, you're not off the hook," He says this slowly, deliberately. "But you and your idiot friend can make up for that later. Make sure he gets my guests home safely tonight, and you won't have to worry about anything else."

A sigh escapes Lavi once he realizes the conversation he'll have to have with the white haired boy who drove him today. By guests, Cross means prostitutes, but Lavi has nothing to say about them. It isn't his business what Cross does in his free time, so long as no one is being harmed by it. In this case it would be the exact opposite, for both parties. But he knows that the white haired boy won't be happy about driving them all home again. At least he was able to avoid a harsher punishment this time around.

"Fine," he agrees.

"Do you know what you're meant to do, boy?" Cross says, raising a curious eyebrow at him. The air about him changes, and he knows he is no longer talking about the cab ride.

"Yeah. But I've got to see the old man before I can begin, per his request." He makes sure to mention this to keep Cross's mouth shut, earning a smirk from the older man. There is a car waiting in the same place Lavi was dropped off earlier, and as Cross climbs into the back seat, Lavi wonders if he's meant to wait long for his own ride.

"3 AM is a better time than most. Try not to be late." He smirks before shuffling a bit to reach for something in his pocket. A clip glints in the light as he pulls it out. Cash. The redhead completes the exchange just before he is greeted by a puff of smoke as Cross speeds away. He jumps back to avoid the spray of water from the back tires.

There isn't a lot of time that Lavi gets to collect his thoughts, and so he uses the few moments he has between the fight and now to think. He can't keep his mind from wandering back to her, wondering where she came from, who she was, and why she was. He couldn't fathom how utterly ruthless she had been despite having just ate her opponent's fist. More than that, the smile that split from her face was what he could not move past. He remembered it clearer than any move she performed that night: the tight, rough edges of her lips that clashed with the smooth skin around her eyes. Her mouth was full of blood and one eye was swollen, but he when he saw her smile, he sensed that there was something much more vicious and bittersweet behind her expression, and he was eager to discover its true nature.

He remembers his folder, and scrawls three simple words to trigger his thoughts about her later.

She was electric.

* * *

a/n: just getting things moving along. this story is not meant to be very complicated. i really appreciate all the support on the first chapter! it's very encouraging. i hope you guys will stick around (: if it was shit, don't be afraid to let me know what i could do better to make it not shit! 3


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